


Sometimes Family is an Alcoholic and a Robot.

by thisgunslingersbecomehuman



Series: Detroit: Become Family. [1]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Body Dysphoria, Depression, Discussion of Abortion, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Mpreg, Past Character Death, Suicidal Thoughts, Trans Character, Trans Hank Anderson, Trans Pregnancy, Transgender Discussion, Unplanned Pregnancy, surgical discussion
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-17
Updated: 2019-03-17
Packaged: 2019-11-22 16:16:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18138536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisgunslingersbecomehuman/pseuds/thisgunslingersbecomehuman
Summary: Hank has spent most of his life building a version of himself he can be happy with. The last few years have been tough, but seemingly the ultimate challenge was yet to come all along. He's scared, but Connor promises to help him all the way. It takes a village to raise a child, or maybe just an emotionally unavailable lieutenant, a recently deviant android, and a dog.





	Sometimes Family is an Alcoholic and a Robot.

**Author's Note:**

> Few points:
> 
> 1\. Hank's 43.  
> 2\. Connor died once falling off the roof to save Emma.  
> 3\. Simon died but was "rebuilt" and restored after the revolution - meaning Connor felt him die.  
> 4\. Hank has an ex husband not wife, but he is bisexual.  
> 5\. Hank began his transition when he was 25.  
> 6\. There still isn't complete equality for androids despite the revolution.
> 
> Anything else I'll either add as I go on or will be explained within the story. Enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank finds out he's pregnant. He's terrified beyond belief, he doesn't know what to do...

Hank is terrible with vulnerability, _fact_. Throughout the entirety of his life, he's always been better suited in the company of abandonment than commitment, and he'd come to accept it warmly. Even in his marriage Hank wasn't a very open husband. He cherished the silence, the nights where a kiss could suffocate the truth, or a look would keep his heart locked away. He remembers the day his husband left him once and for all, slamming his gold rusting wedding ring down on the door front's side table, and Hank actually felt a wretched _relief_ to be alone.

Then the revolution happens, or more specifically, _Connor_ happens. Hank starts to see in his android companion a world of good he forgot existed. Connor had unintentionally given Hank a bountiful supply of optimism to tied him over for the rest of his days, it was scary. Hank sees in Connor a world of good he never found in himself, and he begrudges to admit it keeps him afloat to be around.

That's why he actively rebels. He pushes away the feelings that try to consume him, and throws himself deeper into the pit of his own depression. He snaps the cutesy smiles that break out when Connor compliments him, he ignores the flutter of his heart when Connor brushes up against him, and overall he denies any sort of fluffy admirable gesture thrown his way to be sure he's protected. Connor's too good for him, it's obvious, and Hank has no problem accepting that reality...

Until finally, for the first time in his life, he's terrified to be alone. When the very worst thing that can happen to him happens, his inner desires scream for Connor's condolences.

The doctor's office is so large, it feels like it might swallow him whole. Charts and posters and equipment Hank can't begin to understand, and a woman with eyes as big as dinner plates sat before him, with the devastating confirmation to his worst fears. Her erie smile just emphasises the nightmare. Honestly he'd rather find out he's dying than the reality…

“What does this mean about my testosterone?” That's the first thing he asks, voice and face deadpan.

It shocks the doctor momentarily, but then she's back on track, whittling off facts with accuracy and precision almost cheery enough to keep his focus. Of course, all the while she's giving him the nitty gritty facts, Hank's busy thinking about how drastically his life will change.

A baby is a huge responsibility. Hank already knows this too well, and he lost that opportunity years ago.

Having a child now would just wreck him, more than likely. He can't bare to go through the pain, taking care of something that reminds him daily of Cole. That's what he thinks anyway, that another little him will just stir up toxic feelings he'd finally begun to let go of. Another infant to carry on his name, but there's that worry no matter how different this child is, he'll never stop seeing Cole in everything they do. Is the heartbreak worth a fragile second chance?

The doctor leaves him with an array of information and choices to be made, and Hank returns home no more comforted than when he took the damn pregnancy test last week. All he knows is the years he's spent comforted by his own shadow he's now cursing the loneliness.

He decides to take a nap, all the way through to 10 PM that night. When he's awake again, he's nauseous. He walks out into the living room to find Connor playing with Sumo. Hank didn't make a sound but Connor turns his head immediately to face him, smiling before noticing the worn out expression plaguing Hank's face.

“Is everything okay, Lieutenant?” Connor asks. Hank can't bare to hear him right now, it makes his gut twist. He's so caring and kind, and that genuine comfort just aggregates Hank unbearably so. He grunts, walking to the fridge.

He stares longingly at the beers left over from a fortnight ago. It's wrong, but he doesn't want to be pregnant anyway. He doesn't want to have a baby, it's too late for him, so why act accordingly to his health? Whatever the parasite was inside of him, it wouldn't survive in his care, so why prolong the inevitable heartbreak? With a deep inhale, he reaches in and takes one of the cans from the rings, smirking smugly to himself.

Straightening up and popping the cap off, he walks out the kitchen to lean on the frame dividing the kitchen from the living room, and takes a swig. Connor glances over at him, furrows his brow, then sits up alarmed. His LED is suddenly blasting red.

Hank notices the sudden shift and nods at Connor, raising a brow. “You okay there, kid?”

There's a silence par the thumping of Sumo's tail. Connor is deep in thought, then his eyes drop, glazing over Hank's entire body. When Connor's quiet it alarms Hank, and this is no different. Rather than rattle off a string of words to explain himself, Connor stands and approaches Hank before cautiously taking the beer can from his hand and putting it on the cupboard with his record player.

Hank scoffs, frowning angrily back at the android whose face has dropped to a neutral expression. “What's the deal, asshole?”

“Hank…” His tone is so smooth and gentle, it's somewhat unnerving. Hank's heart tightens in a moment's notice, and plummets to the very depths of his stomach when Connor continues with, “I'm not sure if you're aware of your situation, but I can not allow you to drink given your condition.”

Hank stutters. _No no no_ , he thinks, doing mental gymnastics with every loose thread he's been meaning to fix. _He knows, fuck, of course he knows, oh shit shit shit!--_

“What you talking about? I'm fine,” but as he turns to pick up his beer, Connor grabs his wrist and stops him promptly. He looks stern, but there's a glimmer of something deep in the sparks of his iris’, like pity, or worry, and he registers that mood by intertwining his fingers with Hank's, stroking the back of his hand with his thumb.

“It seems that you are pregnant, Lieutenant.”

Hank's blood goes cold. He stumbles backward, bumping into the frame of the wall and gasping at impact. “Wha-what the fuck are you smoking, Con? That's crazy.” But he can't lie to the one person who can literally see the truth. Connor can scan Hank's body, can tell everything he wishes would align to the surface level factual, so why is he lying? He knows, of course…it's because he's scared.

Connor blinks near a dozen times in a row, awkward, then straightens up. Hank can tell he's unsure of how to handle the situation, which makes things twice as strange and makes him all the more muddied in his feelings. Connor's the only person Hank trusts but his instincts are telling him to stay away, keep his feelings under lock and key, and right now when he's gawking with a look of utter confusion, Hank feels like an absolute circus oddity.

“I apologise, Lieutenant, but my...my detection is correct. Were you unaware?” He steps backward an inch.

Hank doesn't know what he's supposed to do in that moment. He'd already been tearing his brain apart trying to understand all the anxiety clouding his chest, but it's like hearing Connor say it out loud just confirms his terror. He isn't fit to be a father, not at all! There's so much that's needed to look after a kid, and besides, he's already gone through the motions, he can't bare to face that reality again. He can't bare what he already knows that is his ultimate and inevitable failure to protect a child, the same way he couldn't protect--

His stomach suddenly does a barrel roll and has him hunching over vomiting on the floor, falling to his knees as he holds the area stabbing him from the inside. It's a quick action, but the pain lingers after, so heavy he spaces out momentarily and comes through to feel Connor's arms around him protectively. Delicate fingers pull back his wiry hair and rub his back, and that domestic comfort just makes him more weary.

He jumps up from the floor where he's emptied his stomach and rushes to his bedroom. He can't think let alone even talk about the bountiful plague inside him, and in a flurry he grabs his leather coat, his keys and wallet, and marches out the house in a mad dash, ignoring Connor the whole time.

 _

It's predictably, of course, Hank driving to the park he used to go to with Cole, but it's where he feels best in times of great stress. The night sky is just a sheet of endless black, barely any stars tonight. The moon ricochets off the shimmering water, every ripple exaggerated by the moon's glow. Hank feels lonely staring out into the abyss, the city lively and ongoing while he feels compelled to stop.

A baby. He still remembers when he first held Cole in his arms. Their surrogate passed out from exhaustion, Hank cradling this tiny human that was both parts him and his husband. He was gorgeous, Hank couldn't believe he was real. All the sleepless nights and blurred vision, his love prevailed through it all until the very entity that carried him was ripped away. He poured all his bearings into this tiny life just for it to disappear...the cliché truth of it all was that when Cole died, some part of Hank died too.

His head falls into his hands. Even when he's alone he can't bare to cry, even though it's what his body begs for. When Cole died, his husband wept for days. Hank cried when his husband finally left him, he cried on Cole's first anniversary and every one since, but he can't bare to cry in front of people. His hands run up his face and through his hair and he sits back on the bench, staring down at his gut.

God, he wouldn't suit being pregnant. Not even before, all those years ago, it would have been an anomaly to present himself carrying a boulder on his hips. He refused profusely to carry a child when his husband suggested first, and it caused major arguments between them. Hank just couldn't bare the emotional baggage that would come with his body changing, all the hormones making him loopy, screwing with the image of himself he'd fought so hard to make. Maybe it was selfish, but Hank's identify meant a lot to him…

He timidly places his hand on his stomach and presses down lightly. Hank is kind of a big guy, so his weight moves with the pressure, but for the most part he's flat. He tries to imagine himself with a round belly, his shirts straining to close, his feet no longer visible, and he grimaces.

Cole used to lay on his bare chest when he was a newborn. Sometimes his hands would rest on the faded scars under his pectoral, just naturally where he'd sprawled out, and Hank liked it. He felt connected somehow in those moments, even though his son had absolutely no idea of the importance. Those moments were the only ones that ever made him think “ _maybe I should have carried Cole…_ ”

Now he knows he did the right thing, because even before he's showing he feels defeated.

Hank sits there for hours before he hears the soft thud of feet, approaching at a fast pace before finally sitting beside him. He doesn't look over but he knows it's Connor.

“I'd really rather be left alone.” Hank says toward his lap as he hunches over, but Connor doesn't move; doesn't even say anything shockingly. “ _Please_ Connor, I'm really not in the fucking mood-”

“I am sorry.” Connor interrupts, and then stays quiet. Hank expects him to continue but he doesn't. Connor's always so nosey and curious, he needs answers, he needs precision, yet now when maybe it mattered the most between them, he's silent. Hank plays with his hands in his lap, trying to distract himself from the pain in his chest.

Eventually it's too much, and he lunges himself at Connor, sobbing profusely. He buries his face in Connor's shoulder and just cries almost hysterically so, body shaking as Connor tries to console him. He feels like he's breaking. Connor's hands around him are so delicate and warm, Hank could fall to pieces then and there and he knows Connor would finessely put him back together.

“I can't do it.” Hank mutters into Connor's shoulder, just about audible.

“Do you want to do it? You have options if you-”

“I don't know, I have no idea what to do!” Hank pulls back and wipes his eyes. He pinches the bridge of his nose and inhales deeply. “I haven't had a one night stand since my 20s. This was literally a drunken, depressing fluke that's now gonna fuck up my whole life.”

Connor isn't sure what he can say to make things better, and his inability to fix Hank's emotional pain plagues him like anxiety.

“What is it that puts you off keeping it?” Connor asks simply. He doesn't expect Hank to turn to him with a burning fury in his eyes.

“Well let me just whittle off a fucking list for you, yeah?! 1. Both dads are deadbeat drunks, 2. It was basically a hate fuck in the back of a bar so I don't even want to contact him, 3. Dysphoria is a fucking cunt, I don't want to deal with that shit on the daily, 4. Everyone's gonna look at me differently, and 5. I don't want to even tempt fate by giving whatever fucking God exists the chance to kill another fucking _kid of mine_!” He screams the last part, spitting like venom as if he's threatening the heavens above to leave him be.

Connor lets the tensions settle before speaking again. He puts his arm around Hank's shoulder and asks, “And why might you _keep_ it?”

Hank's face drops as his breathing steadies. He blinks away the tears and sighs.

“Because... it's mine.” He turns to face Connor and exhales a shaky breath. “I miss being a dad.”

Connor lets Hank soak up his words for a few minutes before insisting they head back home. He drives Hank's car and takes him inside. When he aids Hank to bed and goes to leave, Hank grabs his wrist.

“I...I don't want to be alone tonight.”

So Connor stays with him. Neither of them speak, Hank just curls around the android, buries his face in his chest, and admits defeat to his vulnerability. All muscles in his body finally rest. It's a God sent how relaxed he feels just having someone else to hold for once, especially when his chest is so hollow. He doesn’t need to feel heavy in his own skin, alone and exhausted.

Some time passes before Sumo jumps up on the bed, the mattress creaking in distress. The dog rests his head to fit on the curve of Hank’s hip bone, and begins snoring loudly, harmonising with Hank. Connor stays awake almost the entire night to sort through his worries.

Hank is having a baby...now Connor has no idea how to make sense of his feelings for the lieutenant. How is he supposed to confess his admiration to someone so emotionally unstable?

He finally enters statis when Hank stirs. He's not likely to get many more opportunities like tonight, so he takes it while he can.

**Author's Note:**

> Anyone who follows my Tumblr Thisgunslingersloaded knows this was a long time coming but I've finally posted the first part of this write up! This is an AU I've been working on for months on my blog just doing drabbles here and there but I wanted to write it up properly so here I am! I hope you like it.
> 
> Please note things I've already written following the timeline will change from what I've done on Tumblr. It's not going to be a mirrored version of the drabbles on my blog!


End file.
